Obelus (ONC 2020)

Chapter 8

Glori Lopez opened the door and gasped, slapping her hands to her plump cheeks.  "Ahh! Mi amor."

Eli stepped into the house for the tight, suffocating hug he'd expected.  He handed off the bouquet to Mr. Lopez, who winked at him and slipped into the kitchen to put the flowers in some water. 

Eli knew better than to bring his own dish or appetizer to this household—Glori would kill him for refusing her selfless generosity.   But every now and again he got away with a bouquet; it was the one gift she permitted, even though no sum of flowers could ever express how grateful he was to her and her family.

"How come you don't greet me with big hugs like that?" Lopez complained from the living room. 

Brenna, who was sitting on the floor among Teddy's siblings, glanced up at him with an evil smirk.  "Yeah, Eli. How come?"

He glared at them over the woman's shoulder.  How was he 21 years old and still surrounded by children?

Glori peeled back to look at Eli and cupped his face. Smushed it, really. "We miss you here, mijo. So kind. So thoughtful.  Why don't you trade places with Tadeo?"

"Ma!"

Eli grinned down at those dark brown eyes, just as warm and tender as her son's.  "I can make arrangements."

Lopez harrumphed, flipping him off when his mother wasn't looking.  Brenna just laughed.

Eli made his rounds, catching up with Glori and her husband, Fabrício, who still struggled with English but did his best to make Eli feel welcome.  He greeted Teddy's kid siblings and tried to get them to admit he was their favorite, but they were still obsessed with his sister.

It was so strange how comfortable he felt here in this home.  He knew it all too well—the excessive heating, the scent of baked treats and spices.  Blindfold him, and he could sketch the space to the finest detail: the crooked portraits checkering the wall, The Last Supper painting above the TV, the guitar in the corner of the living room, the quilted blankets folded atop the old, wooden rocking chair.

It was the complete opposite of the house he'd grown up in, a house that had always been pristine and orderly, more like a home office than anything.  But this place had been broken in. 

It had been lived in.

When dinner was ready, he and Brenna helped set the table, eager to assist in any way they could, since Glori didn't permit them many opportunities to do so. Then, after Mr. Lopez said grace, they promptly stuffed their faces with Glori's famous stacked enchiladas. 

Eli wanted to cry.  They were that good.

"So, Brenna," Glori said, clasping her hands together excitedly.  "Are you seeing anyone yet?"

Brenna chuckled, taking a long sip of water while she thought up a legitimate response.  They all knew Glori was dying to set her up with her cousin, and although Brenna loved the Lopez family, she wasn't keen on dating a 37-year-old. "I'm not. But I kind of enjoy being single.  It gives me more time to focus on my art."

Eli snorted.  That was one big fucking lie.

Brenna narrowed her eyes at him.  "But you know, I think my brother has found someone at long last."

Eli's smile instantly vanished, and he gaped at her.

What the hell.

He heard Teddy's fork fall to his plate, and he wished he could evaporate.